


Shadow Play

by AxeMeAboutAxinomancy



Category: Sherlock (TV), Shoujo Kakumei Utena | Revolutionary Girl Utena
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Crossover, Dreams, Ficlet, M/M, Mash-up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2013-04-30
Packaged: 2017-12-10 00:23:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AxeMeAboutAxinomancy/pseuds/AxeMeAboutAxinomancy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's weird dream, immediately forgotten. Highly self-indulgent little piece that will not make one lick of sense unless you are familiar with Utena.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadow Play

 

> _"What a lovely thing a rose is!"_   Sherlock Holmes, "The Naval Treaty"

> **Utena** : Is that your brother?  
>  **Anthy** : No. That is a planetarium projector.

  
I wonder, I wonder, do you know what I wonder?

John had a dream he forgot about, but I'll tell you.

He was glad to forget about it because it was weird and had confusing bits with Sherlock and with Mycroft. Of all people. Give John a war dream anytime over that.

It had sort of seemed to start out as a war dream. He'd arrived in uniform, anyhow, reported to a base in a desert where half  the blokes wore dresses for some reason and thought he should too, but he wouldn't, even though Mrs Hudson yelled at him about it the moment they met.

But then he realised it wasn't a base, it was a hospital. And then he realised later still that it wasn't a hospital, it was a school. And some of Russell Square Gardens was in the middle of it. And somewhere inside the building were some rooms from the house where John grew up. In the hospital part Molly had turned up, and she followed him doggedly, helpfully chattering. She told him this and that about the Council that you had to deal with around here. People he knew were in it, but he didn't recognise them until she pointed them out. Lestrade, Donovan, Mike, Angelo, Sebastian Cabot, even Harry was here, though she pretended not to recognise John. Maybe she wasn't pretending. Maybe he looked different. Mirrors didn't work in that place, they showed you things other than yourself.

Faceless girls flocked around him wherever he went. He wasn't sure why, but it was nice for a while.

Then he was assigned a flatmate.

Sherlock Holmes. Who everybody said was a weirdo.

He was, too.

He lurked in the rose garden studying aphids, doing experiments, making hybrid flowers that smelled like death. He let other people slap him and call him a freak to his face.

Couldn't always tell if he were boy or girl, for some reason, though there were no curves to him at all, all sharp angles and cutting talk, as though he were made of swords.

But he knew every secret everyone ever tried to keep. The strange pale eyes took in John and held him there for examination.

When he played the violin the sound of a piano came out. For some reason it took John ages to notice.

Then one day there was a fight and they were in trouble and Sherlock leaned back and said, 'you'll need this' and a sword rose up out of his heart and John stared at it.

It was weird and weirdly familiar and beautiful and impossible. Smooth gems in the hilt. Diamond hard, glass sharp.

'you have to pull it out' Sherlock said impatiently and John put his hand on the hilt. It was warm. The temperature of blood. And a thrill went up his arm and all through his body.

He fought everyone with that shining, sharp blade and things were good. But then there was Mycroft. Mycroft who lived in the shadowy upstairs and sooner or later put his hands on everyone.

Yes, even John.

But also Sherlock.

Sherlock was so voracious for other people's secrets that John hadn't stopped to think about Sherlock's own secrets. The game he and Moriarty played with the black roses and the bombs and all those innocent people was tame in comparison.

When things went wrong, it was John who had to lean back. Sherlock was not the only one with a sword. All John's dogged strength was in that blade, but in the end it was brittle with his own secret. In the end it broke. In the end the castle was only a trick of the light.

_I thought we were together but you stabbed me in the back._

They were in on it together, Sherlock and Mycroft; John fought and struggled on, he did his best, he always does his best, but in the end John failed and Sherlock fell and was lost to him. Absolute apocalypse.

And everyone forgot about John.

But somehow - in the dream - Sherlock was _still alive_ and he left Mycroft and went out into the world to find John again.

_Wait for me._

That's all I can tell you.

**Author's Note:**

> This is nothing more nor less than what happened when I was driving while listening to soundtrack music from Utena. I thought, haha, John as Utena, and then, OH, the Sword of Dios rising up out of Sherlock's heart. YEAH.
> 
> Full disclosure: I have dressed up as Utena for an anime con.


End file.
